Sunday May 13th is Mother’s Day this year. Each year a day is set aside for us to honor and remember our mothers and our grandmothers. As you contemplate writing your life story, your mother and grandmother will play an important part in it. I had the opportunity to interview my mother a few years ago and learned some things about her I never would have guessed! It was exciting to learn things I never knew before. As I write my own history, I can now include those stories about her.

Your life story must include your mother!

If your Mom is still alive ask her about her life. If she has passed away ask her siblings (your aunts and uncles), if they are still alive. Use the following list of topics to help you write about your Mom:

Where did she grow up?

What was her childhood like?

If you have heard stories about your mother, write them down. Where and when was your mother born? If you are like me, your mom was a child during the Depression (1930s). For many of us the “Depression” was nothing more than a thing we heard about in history class. If your mom is still alive have her tell you about life during that time. How much more exciting it would be as you hear about this from her.

Maybe she was a child of the sixties. Was she a “hippy?” She probably has some interesting stories.

Think how interesting her story will be to your children and grandchildren. In many cases the stories you write about your mother might be the only ones they hear!

Ask your mom about her school memories

Where did she go to elementary school?

How different was her elementary school years than yours?

What was your mother like in high school?

Ask your mom about her childhood

Whenever I interview someone in the course of writing their life history, I always spend a good length of time talking about their mother.
The following excerpt is from a woman living in Chicago:

My mother was born in June 1895 in Messina [Sicily] and came here to the U.S. as a very small child, probably preschool age. During WWI, her family was forced to return to Italy for some years until after the war. When they returned to the United States, my mother lived at home with her mother and her older brothers. I recall her telling me that all the “boys” turned their paychecks over to their mother who was head of the family.

Another example is from a fellow I interviewed a few years ago who talked about his mother:

My mother was one of the people that got polio. When I was about nine or ten years old, she had to go into the hospital. It never did go to her lungs, but it affected her back and her arm. I remember when she went to the hospital in the summer, she said, “I am going to be home by October.” She was quite paralyzed on her left side.

Mom used to take us over to the creek to swim, and we would go on hikes. She had fun at the expense of housekeeping. Sometimes the house got kind of ramshackle, and then we’d all have to go through and blitz the house to get it all cleaned up.

Swimming with my family

Describe your mother

What did your mother look like? Can you describe her?

As you think back on your mother, how do you remember her — heavy or thin?

Do you have photographs of your mother?

Photo of a mother

A gentleman I interviewed a number of years ago remembered his mother this way:

My mother was small with black curly hair. She was very pretty. She had that black curly hair until she died, it never turned grey. My mother did not have any scars or anything else she tried to cover up.

She did all the cooking, and she was a great cook. We always had big tables of food. Her brother, would bring his family for dinner. We always had wine for dinner. Macaroni was my favorite thing she made. We always had macaroni with meatballs and sausage.

Write stories that can characterize your mother.

Write about her personality. Was she a happy person or melancholy, given to fits of depression, or did she have a temper and did you ever feel her wrath.?

One of the many things I can remember about my mother was her determination. She never graduated from college. When she married my dad, she dropped out of college (Indiana University). When I was in high school, I remember my Mom taking night classes, with a firm determination to graduate. It seemed like she was going to night school forever. Eventually she did graduate and I remember we all attended her commencement where she finally received her degree. I will never forget her determination.

Last week I talked about the homes we grew up in. This week I want to follow up that discussion by talking about the neighborhood we grew up in. Did you grow up in the city, on a farm, or the suburbs? Our stories will all be different depending on where we lived.

Use the following questions to help you get started. I have found that it only takes a small reminiscence to poke a hole in your memory dam:

Take some time and describe what your neighborhood was like.

What were some of the significant local places around your neighborhood, schools, or parks?

If you lived in a city, did you play in vacant lots or alleys.

Talk about the kids that lived nearby.

What kinds of games did you play?

The Street Where I Lived

I lived on a quiet street that didn’t go anywhere. The only reason people drove on our street was because they lived there! It was a short street with maybe only 30-35 houses.

When my street was developed and the houses were built in the 1920s, two maple trees were planted in the front of each house between the sidewalk and the street (park strip). It seems like the developers started planting trees at each end of the street and by the time they reached our house they had to plant three trees, our house was in the exact middle of the street. We were the only house on the street with three trees in front. When I was growing up (1960s) these trees had grown to be really big! They practically blocked out the sun in the summer time. I remember one time I was throwing a ball up and catching it. It went up into the tree branches, and I lost it in the leaves until it came down and hit me right in the eye! I never saw it until was too late! I was black and blue for about a week. It really hurt.

My street was flat and located across a hill — it was level but all the streets leading to it were on a hill. To go anywhere you had to either go up or down a hill. Two streets dead ended into our street, and two at each end went up and down to other streets. To get anywhere, school, town, or stores—it was up or down and then coming home, up or down again.

We all had bikes. Three speeds were all the rage, and to get anywhere we rode our bikes. Our parents hardly ever drove us, unlike today! Since we had to go up or down the hill, it seemed like at least once a summer the brakes would break going down the hill. There I was screaming, riding downhill with no way to stop. At the bottom of the hill I just had to crash into bushes in front of somebody’s house, after wildly crossing the fairly busy street and praying no cars were coming. It was AMAZING WE WERE NEVER HIT!

Playing in the street

There were so many kids our age that lived on our street. Some were friends and some enemies, and alliances seemed to changed weekly — sounds like episodes of Survivor. During the summer we frequently played baseball in the street. The ball would, without fail, roll into one of storm sewers. The littlest kid would need to crawl down while someone held their feet. They were lowered down so they could get the usually wet, soggy ball. We always thought it was so gross, but what could we do? We usually only had one ball, and it was vital that the kid with the ball was home and could come out to play. If not — no game!

This is the Colonial Terrace ball field, the arrows indicate 1st and 3rd base, I can’t believe the we actually sent a kid down to get the ball.

Since we played in the street we always had to watch for cars! Whenever one came by we usually knew who they were, but sometimes a person was lost or a delivery truck would drive by. We would then all run out of the way and yelled, “Car, Car, C-A-R, stick it in a jelly jar.” How dumb that sounds now, but we all thought it was fun to yell. Usually the person who first saw the car would yell it.

Talk about all the silly but fun things you did.

Periodically street factions would form, and somehow it was decided that it was time to do battle with the other group. I remember, since we had so many different kinds of trees, we would collect chestnuts that fell from the trees. The actual nut was inside a spiny shell, and in time they would split and the nut could be removed. It was so much better to collect the nuts before they separated from the spiny shell and use this for the ammunition. We threw the spiny things at each other which were about the size of golf balls. They must have really hurt if we were actually able to hit someone with them, but I don’t think we ever did!

Our favorite ammunition, chestnuts!

These neighborhood battles were usually well organized. We would spend so much time collecting the weapons (nuts), organizing the teams and preparing, that the actual war was pretty short lived. It seemed that our parents were never aware of these large-scale war games taking place, especially since no one was ever really hurt.

I remember the whole street and yards were our playground and hardly anyone had fences. Fences were usually just to keep a dog contained, but they were never obstacles to us. Games of “hide and seek” took on wide ranging proportions. We were always increasing the size of the playing field.

Write About Your Childhood Play and Games

Write about your childhood! So much of who we became can be traced back to the time we spent as children. I read recently that today’s children spend a large part of their time in front of a screen. Those of us who roamed the neighborhood need to tell this part of our stories and save that legacy.

Write about your childhood friends. Tell why you remember them today. There must have been something that triggered your memory of them. Are you still in touch with them—are you still friends?

Share your memories in the comments. Spend time with your memories. In the upcoming weeks, I will talk more about topics and ways to remember your story.

But remember, It’s never too early, but it’s always too late!

Start writing your story. It truly is the most important legacy you can leave your family!

One of the best ways to get your story focused on your childhood is to think back on the house you grew up in!

Sometimes it is difficult to remember specific events in your childhood or what your parents and grandparents may have told you about their childhood years, but think about and describe the house you lived in growing up. It’s possible that you haven’t thought much about this home for many years. You will be surprised at the number of things you can remember about it, and by recalling these memories, you will begin to think about other events that happened while you lived there.

My street in Maplewood, NJ

Describe the House you grew up in!

Close your eyes and walk in the front door—what do you see? What was the furniture like? Did you have rugs or wall-to-wall carpeting? I remember we had carpeting that my parents were so proud of. I think it was a green color—ugh—really! This was the early 1960s, and at least it wasn’t a deep shag. Throughout the main floor there was a living room, dining room, and a sunroom (a closed in porch) off the living room. The bedrooms were on the second floor. I never knew anything else.

About twenty years after my Mom sold that house, my brother and I stopped by and asked the owners (the same people who bought it from my Mom) if we could come in and look around. If you ever get the chance to visit your old home, stop by, ring the bell and ask to come in and look around. Usually the owners will let you. The memories will flood back.

The new owners had removed the carpeting which revealed beautiful hardwood floors. Who knew! All the hardwood trim throughout the house had also been painted by my parents. The new owners stripped that paint off and refinished the oak trim. The house looked so much better. We couldn’t believe it!

The kitchen seemed so big when we lived there, but it was really small. We had all our meals around a round oak table. The dining room was only used for special meals and Sunday dinner. No dish washer—that was a real luxury and there was no place to put it anyway. Mom did all the dishes in the sink.

Did you have a basement? If so, what was it like?

Our basement was dark and dingy. The washer and dryer was down there, and it seemed like mom and the dog were the only ones who ever went down there! There was a toilet kind of sitting up on a raised platform, no door or privacy, and my mom was the only one who ever used that. She said it was convenient when she was down there doing the wash. I only remember how we all thought that was so gross.

Did you share a bedroom with your brother or sister?

I had one younger brother (four years younger) and two younger sisters. My brother and I shared a large bedroom on the second floor. There was two bathrooms—one off my parents’ bedroom (small, but it had a shower) and a larger one that the four of us kids all shared. I think my two sisters each had their own rooms, but l think they were much smaller than the one my brother and I shared.

Our house had a third floor, an attic, which was quite large. The attic had a number of rooms and a bathroom. Since our house was built in the 1930s, the attic was for the maid’s quarters. Our maid, my mother, had her bedroom on the second floor! So, the whole attic was pretty much unused. We did store things there but basically it was empty.

My dad loved to build things, and it seemed that every Saturday we were always driving to “Channel Lumber,” the local hardware store to buy this or that, and we usually came home with some lumber. Well, my dad thought that the attic would make a great place for my brother and I to have our own bedrooms and bathroom.

So, began the construction journey that seemed to last forever as my Dad tore down the existing rooms and built the greatest hangout for my brother and I. We each had our own bedroom, shared a bathroom with a shower, and there was also a kind of living room where we could hang out with our friends.

As I write this I can remember that bathroom construction—something I haven’t thought about in years. As my dad built my brother and I put little notes into the framing, “Why are you tearing down this wall,” things like that. Remember, thinking about one thing, will bring to mind so many other memories. It will be a fun journey!

The original bathroom had a big cast-iron claw foot tub. You have probably seen them today. Everyone wants one now, but not then. It had to be removed, and it weighed a ton. My dad wanted a fiberglass shower in its place! The only way to get it out was to remove the small window and make the hole bigger in the bathroom in this third floor attic room, and lower it out the window and down to the driveway. What an undertaking, but nothing was too difficult for my dad. The day arrived to get that tub out. It was a Saturday, and all the neighbors were there watching, and I’m sure giving advice and moral support. It was successful and the tub was gone (it didn’t drop). I don’t know what happened to it—probably went to the dump!

On our visit back to the house years later, we discovered beautiful hardwood floors were under the ugly carpeting. My brother and I went up to our attic domain. It was like an episode of the “Twilight Zone.” Nothing had changed since we left—it was spooky. The new owners never went up there and had left everything exactly as we had left it!

As you write your story, or that of your parents, be sure to think back on the house you (or they) grew up in. As close your eyes and think back on house you lived in, and the memories will come back to you! These memories will also lead you to remembering the neighborhood and your childhood friends. A topic we can talk about in a future blog.

Have fun as you walk down your memory lane. Remember writing your story should be fun!

A few weeks ago, I wrote about remembering your childhood memories, and I included a small discussion about family vacations. This week I want to focus more on this great topic: family vacations. It is one that can usually brings some fun happy memories of your parents and brothers and sisters.

Car Trips

When I was young and living in New Jersey (my Dad worked in NYC) we would load into the family station wagon and drive 800 miles through Pennsylvania and Ohio to northern Indiana. It was an all-day trip (the speed limits were 70 mph), leaving early in the morning and arriving in late afternoon, usually in time for dinner. Crowded into the car all day, it was such a long trip for four kids and my mom and dad. I can’t remember how many times we heard, “If you kids don’t behave and keep quiet, I‘m going to pull this car over and let all four of you have it!” Hah — I wonder if they really would have! How many times have told your kids the same thing? Write about your own family vacation stories.

Did you bring the family dog with you on vacation?

Since I grew up in New Jersey, and not on a farm it was so much fun going to Indiana to visit our cousins who lived on a farm. We stayed at our grandparents home very near my uncle’s farm. Every day we would walk down to the farmhouse and play with our cousins. They were both girls. One was just a bit older than me and the other was younger. They had one horse, that we had to catch in the pasture. Once we caught it we rode bare back. I fell off that horse so many times — what fun. We chased the cows and pigs, and we fed the chickens. To us it was fun, but my cousins were glad they could get someone else to do their chores! It seemed like a real Tom Sawyer story.

Growing up, living in New Jersey, we had no family living close. Our trips, usually two weeks long, were our main vacations. I remember so distinctly those long car rides. It’s funny what you remember — we always brought milk and some of those individual cereal boxes (remember the assorted kind). You could open the box along the perforations, pout in the milk and use it as a bowl. Since I was the oldest, I claimed it was my choice of which kind I wanted (everyone wanted the sugar kind) however, my mother did not agree with my claim of seniority! We would stop at a road side picnic table along the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

Pennsylvania Turnpike 1942 — 70 miles per hour

In the late 1950s and early 1960s they were no nicely built rest areas, just a wide spot along the turnpike where a car could stop and eat at a picnic table. Cars were zipping along going 60-70 miles per hour! Holy smokes — how dangerous was that. The roadside table was maybe only 50 feet from road. We didn’t care — I don’t think my parents cared — it was fun.

How many of you remember “Stuckey’s “roadside stores” They seemed to be everywhere, throughout the country on every freeway exit. Do you remember the pecan log rolls and divinity?

Historic Places

Living on the east coast we often took trips to visit historical sites. It seemed like everything was only a day’s drive away. Colonial sites, Revolutionary War, and Civil War battlefields could all be visited on two or three day trips. In school, it seemed like US History started with the pilgrims and ended at the Civil War. We never learned anything about the west or Native Americans! I remember taking elementary school field trips to nearby revolutionary battlefields, “Jockey Hollow” and Washington’s Headquarters in Morristown, NJ. We could tell you all about Molly Picher and the battle of Monmouth Court House.

Molly Pitcher and the Battle of Monmouth CourtHouse

If you ask my own children, they will tell you we always visited every historical site we could. I think they really loved it but they might not tell you that.

Mystic Village in Connecticut was another favorite site we visited. Located along Long Island Sound it depicted a nineteenth century whaling community. I still have souvenirs collected from many of these places.

Tall Ships at Mystic Seaport

Today we collect refrigerator magnets from all the places we have visited. My children are now carrying on this tradition.

The Beach and Mountains

We did not have mountains but the Jersey Shore was a favorite place to go. At least two or three times during the summer we all loaded into the car for the trip to the beach. This carried on into high school where my friends and I would go to the beach all the time during the summer.

Family vacations at the beach

As you begin your life history journey, be sure to take the time to think about your childhood family vacations. Maybe all you did was take short trips to visit family, or long trips, write about them. Be sure to write about all the happy and funny things that happened. Find any photos that you have of these vacations and include them in your story!

Here are some topics that might help you recall family vacations:

Did your family have a summer place you went every year?

Where was it located

Have you been back there recently?

Can you describe some of the changes that that have taken place since your family visited?

Have fun on your life history journey, your family will love you for the effort!

In today’s blog I wanted to focus on a concept that most people fall victim to when writing about the past (history). Presentism, the historical fallacy or problem area, applies when writing about general history or trying to write about our family. Don’t try to sugar coat (cover-up) the actions of the ancestors you don’t agree with.

Presentism is a historical term meaning judging past actions by today’s standards, or uncritical adherence to present-day attitudes, especially the tendency to interpret past events in terms of modern values and concepts. We all too often color history with the lens of our current prejudices. Remember, attitudes and cultural values have changed over time. Try not to make excuses for the past.

In literary and historical analysis, presentism is the introduction of present-day ideas and perspectives into depictions or interpretations of the past.

Some modern historians seek to avoid presentism in their work because they consider it a form of cultural bias, and believe it creates a distorted understanding of their subject matter. The practice of presentism is regarded by some as a common fallacy in historical writing.

Now for Then — Nunc pro Tunc

The Oxford English dictionary gives the first citation for presentism in its historiographic sense in 1916, and the word may have been used in this meaning as early as the 1870s. The historian David Hackett Fischer in his book Historian’s Fallacies, Toward a Logic of Historic Thought, identifies presentism as a fallacy also known as the “fallacy of “nunc pro tunc.” It is the mistaken idea that the proper way to do history is to prune away the dead branches of the past, and to preserve the green buds and twigs which have grown into the dark forest of our contemporary world.

Fischer has written that the “classic example” of presentism was the so-called “Whig history,” in which certain 18th- and 19th-century British historians wrote history in a way that used the past to validate their own political beliefs.

This interpretation was presentism because it did not depict the past in objective historical context but instead viewed history only through the lens of contemporary Whig beliefs. In this kind of approach, which emphasizes the relevance of history to the present, things that do not seem relevant receive little attention, which results in a misleading portrayal of the past. “Whig history” or “whiggishness” are often used as synonyms for presentism, particularly when the historical depiction in question is teleological or triumphalist.

History differs from fiction in offering not truth-likeness or truth to life, but truth itself; not what might or could have happened, but what did.

Studying Women’s rights is a good example. The rights of women have changed dramatically over the past 100 years. During the nineteenth century women could not vote and by today’s standards were considered second-class citizens. Slowly they received more and more respect — they could vote and own property. What did the founding fathers really intend? It has been debated for decades, but if historians try to apply their current values and beliefs, arguments and disagreements are all that result. Just accept your ancestors with all of their beliefs and value their accomplishments.

Just Describe What Happened

Presentism is also a factor in the problematic question of history and moral judgments. Among historians, the orthodox view may be that reading modern notions of morality into the past is to commit the error of presentism. To avoid this, historians restrict themselves to describing what happened and attempt to refrain from using language that passes judgment. For example, when writing history about slavery in an era when the practice was widely accepted, letting that fact influence judgment about a group or individual would be presentistism and thus should be avoided.

Critics respond that to avoid moral judgments is to practice moral relativism, a controversial idea. Some religious historians argue that morality is timeless, having been established by God. They say it is not anachronistic to apply timeless standards to the past. (In this view, while mores may change, morality does not.)

Customary and Acceptable Then — But Not Now

Others argue that application of religious standards has varied over time as well. Saint Augustine, for example, holds that there exist timeless moral principles, but contends that certain practices (such as polygamy) were acceptable in the past because they were customary but now are neither customary nor acceptable.

Fischer, for his part, writes that while historians might not always manage to avoid the fallacy completely, they should at least try to be aware of their biases and write history in such a way that they do not create a distorted depiction of the past.